Imagine Book 2

A Chance Meeting- Svetlana Yevgenivna (Shameless)

As requested by jtr85127036! Male Y/N

𝓢𝓶𝓾𝓽 𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰

The late autumn wind whipped through the Chicago streets, sending leaves skittering across Y/N's path as he made his way through the city. His usual evening walk had become something of a ritual lately – a way to clear his head after long days at the office. But tonight was different. Tonight, he noticed her.

She stood at the corner, one hand braced against a brick wall, her dark hair whipping around her face. Even from a distance, Y/N could see she wasn't steady on her feet. There was something striking about her – a fierce independence in her posture despite her obvious discomfort.

As he drew closer, he could see the pallor of her skin and the slight tremble in her hand against the wall. Her eyes, when they met his, were sharp and defensive despite her weakened state.

"You okay there?" Y/N asked, keeping a respectful distance.

"I am fine," she replied, her accent thick and distinctly Russian. "Go away."

Y/N shifted his weight, unwilling to leave someone clearly unwell alone on the streets. "Look, I know you don't know me, but you really don't look well. At least let me walk you home?"

She let out a short, harsh laugh. "What, you think because woman looks sick, she needs big strong man to save her? I take care of myself many years before you come along."

"I don't doubt that for a second," Y/N said, offering a gentle smile. "But everyone needs help sometimes. Even strong, independent women who can probably kick my ass."

Something flickered in her eyes – amusement, perhaps? She studied him for a long moment, her gaze analytical and unflinching. "You are strange man. Most men, they run when woman shows teeth. You, you smile bigger."

"I've been called worse things," Y/N shrugged. "I'm Y/N."

"Svetlana," she replied after a pause. Another wave of dizziness seemed to hit her, and she gripped the wall tighter. "Fuck."

"Please," Y/N said softly. "Let me help."

Svetlana's jaw clenched, pride warring with practicality in her expression. Finally, she gave a sharp nod. "Fine. But you try anything, I remove favourite body part while you sleep."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "Noted. Which way?"

"Two blocks that way," she gestured, pushing off from the wall. She swayed slightly, and Y/N moved closer, ready to steady her if needed but careful not to touch without permission.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Svetlana's steps becoming steadier as they went. Y/N noticed how she carried herself – straight-backed and proud despite her illness, with a grace that seemed at odds with her tough exterior.

"You are not like most men who offer help on street," she said suddenly. "Most want something. You..." she glanced at him sideways, "you just look worried."

"I am worried," Y/N admitted. "And yeah, maybe I'm a bit different. Is that such a bad thing?"

"Maybe not," she murmured, leading them down another street. "Here. This building."

They climbed the stairs to her apartment, Y/N staying close but still maintaining that careful distance. At her door, Svetlana paused, keys in hand, and turned to face him.

"You come inside," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Oh, I don't want to impose—"

"Is not imposition if I tell you to do it," she cut him off, already unlocking the door. "Besides, I have vodka. Good vodka. Will help with..." she gestured vaguely at herself, "this."